


Things We Miss

by relativestranger



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Banter, Blowjobs, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, I just want them to be happy, M/M, Pining, Post-War, Slow Burn, Smut, They’re just trying to have fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relativestranger/pseuds/relativestranger
Summary: The war is over and there’s a host of things just waiting to be rediscovered.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Things We Miss

**Author's Note:**

> Earth, and the Universe at large, is saved (don’t ask me how).  
> Allura is alive and well (don’t ask me how).  
> Altea and Daibazaal exist again (don’t ask me how).  
> Shiro didn’t marry someone we don’t know ( _do_ ask me how).
> 
> Apologies in advance for any errors... after a hundred proofreads, things kind of blur together.

Sliding his eyes toward the clock hanging over the projections, he checks the time yet again and grits his teeth. Time seems to be moving like a snail stuck in molasses. This presentation is already five minutes over its allotted time and there’s still supposed to be a Q&A session. He really hopes that no one has any questions because he cannot sit through any more of this. He feels a headache already forming from clenching his jaw so hard.

On more than one occasion, he was tricked into thinking it was over only to have the operator click through to a new slide. He grips the arm of his chair, ready to rip it off and throw it at the projection but refrains. Ten minutes later, there are no more slides to click through. Mercifully, there was only one question, from _Slav_ , of fucking course, about something asinine like what color the shuttle used for the next supply run will be because orange is bad but purple is good. No one has any intention of humoring him but they nod their heads in assent anyway.

Finally, the last meeting of the day finishes up and he doesn’t even wait for Sam to adjourn the meeting before he spins out of his chair. He’d run out of there but he’s been told that that’s “unprofessional” by multiple people on multiple occasions. So he puts his head down and speed walks out instead. No one can call that unprofessional, right? He’s the Black Paladin and a high ranking Blade of Marmora officer that keeps a very busy schedule and mustn’t be derailed with trivial questions like what the weather is like on Daibazaal.

He navigates through Atlas easily and turns the corner, briefly glances at his watch, and sighs before he slaps his palm on the biometric reader. He pokes his head into the office, unsurprised to find Shiro still at his desk working despite it being dinnertime. The man parted ways from the Galaxy Garrison a few months after the war ended but he remained on as a temporary liaison between the Garrison and the Alliance for Intergalactic Diplomacy, or AID, an interplanetary peacekeeping and humanitarian organization. Really, it’s just the Voltron Coalition re-named.

While Shiro understood the reasons and still have friends there and still have near daily contact with them, he couldn’t dedicate his life to the Garrison anymore in the aftermath of Kerberos. Even with the _very_ public apology issued by the Garrison. Keith does not blame him for wanting to distance himself from the very organization that decided to use him as the scapegoat and pinned the failure of the Kerberos mission on him.

However, the presence of Atlas makes things a bit more nebulous than anyone would have liked since she’s unwilling to allow anyone but Shiro to pilot her. Some kind of weird joint custody agreement is still in negotiations but the plan is that after a transition period, Shiro will be moved to a commandership within AID. Until then, he splits time between Atlas (stationed on the Garrison base) and the newly constructed Milky Way AID headquarters located about half a mile from the Galaxy Garrison compound.

For now, he is still a Captain and is afforded the treatment of one.

Leaning against the doorjamb, he politely informs Shiro of the time, “Hey, it’s dinner. Let’s go.”

The Captain of the IGF-Atlas doesn’t even pause in his work to acknowledge the interruption, merely nodding. “I just have to finish this.”

Keith scowls–it’s so predictable that it’s quite exasperating–and with four long strides, approaches his desk, “No,” he pulls the data pad from his hands, “you don’t.”

Shiro finally looks up, his expression a combination of amusement and acceptance with a hint of annoyance, “Keith–” he starts but is cut off immediately by Keith.

“No one is dying,” Keith walks around his desk and pulls him out of his chair and steers him towards the door. “Nothing is on fire. The world isn’t ending. Trust me, whatever it is, it can wait. Dinner. Come on.”

Keith knows he’s won when Shiro’s shoulders relax and follows him without any further urging, “Fine. But if Iverson–”

He scoffs to stop that line of thought, “You outrank Iverson. He can’t say shit.”

Shiro grumbles, rolls his eyes and huffs, “That may be but… it’s weird thinking of him as a subordinate after being _his_ subordinate for so long. Isn’t it?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Keith purses his lips and asks Shiro, “Do you still think of me as a subordinate?”

Shiro laughs at the mere idea of it, “Of course not. You grew out of that ages ago. We’re equals, Keith.”

Keith nods along, already knowing that, but presses further, “And is it weird that you think of me as an equal instead of a subordinate after doing so for so long?”

Shiro’s answer is immediate, “No.” He adjusts his collar, preening as he straightens his already pristine uniform, “I’m quite proud of it.”

While Keith knows that–Shiro never fails to tell him that he’s proud of him every chance he gets–he’s still not used to the praise. He ducks his head hiding his eyes and face behind his hair and with an exaggerated flourish of his hand says, “Then there’s your answer.”

“Oh.” Shiro rubs the back of his head sheepishly and chuckles, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Keith jerks his head, “Now, come on. I’m starving.”

As if just realizing they were going in the opposite direction where they should be, Shiro stops in confusion. “Uh, Keith? Canteen’s that way,” Shiro points out.

Keith reaches back for Shiro’s arm and tugs him along, resuming their trek, “We’re not going to the canteen.”

“Oh.” Shiro pauses, a frown marring his face, “Then where are we going?”

Keith shrugs, not really in the mood to explain how he’s abducting the Atlas Captain for the night. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Shiro’s eyes light up in interest and Keith knows that he’s hooked him.

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’ for emphasis.

Shiro makes a happy little sound before his eyes turn a tad suspicious. “There’s not a whole lot of restaurants or diners open at the moment since everything in rebuild mode. Hunk’s off planet and you don’t cook anything but instant noodles… what are you up to?”

Keith shrugs again, content with stringing him along. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The furrow on his brow amuses Keith as does the pursed lips as Shiro strokes his chin. As they cross the threshold leading to the outer hangers of the Atlas, Shiro pouts and it is a sight to behold. A man his age shouldn’t be able to get away with pouting like that.

“You are definitely up to something.”

Keith laughs both at the image and the fact that Shiro thinks he’s a troublemaker. Well, he _is_ but he isn’t making trouble _now_. He's just someone that is trying to get his friend to take a goddamn break after a long and trying week.

“Remember how patience yields focus?”

Shiro snorts. Just straight up _snorts_. “Not sure if that applies in this instance.”

He rolls his eyes at Shiro’s nitpicking. If he weren’t so fond of Shiro, Keith would’ve just shoved him in the utility closet they just walked by. “Then how about, ‘good things comes to those who wait’?”

Grumbling, Shiro folds his arms over his wide chest. Or at least he tries to, what with the floating arm and all. “Fine.” The pout is back.

Rolling his eyes, this time at Shiro’s petulance, he whistles for the wolf and grabs hold of Shiro’s forearm, “Hang on tight. Let’s go, boy.”

In an instant, they blink out of existence only to reappear miles away from the Garrison, Atlas, and any and all responsibility. Shiro shakes his head, trying to dispel the wooziness that always accompanies them with the wolf’s teleportation abilities. Curled over, he looks like he’s about to wretch and when he straightens up, he swears Shiro’s face has taken a slightly green tint to it.

Shiro presses his hand to his chest and exhales deeply. “No matter how many times he does that, I will never get used to it.”

After years of teleporting with the wolf, Keith himself hasn’t gotten used to it. He’s pretty sure that he can feel his molecules break apart and then rearrange themselves at an atomic level whenever the wolf teleports with him in tow. Keith rubs his ears and stretches his jaw, trying to clear the popping sensation.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to.” He grabs the cooler from the wolf’s mouth and waves him off. The wolf tilts his head, his heavy tongue out, clearly anticipating a reward. Keith gives his belly a quick rub and cocks his head toward the vast desert, “Go play.”

The wolf leaps up, and with a string of teleportations, he’s off happily chasing after a coyote or a jackrabbit or some other desert creature. He plops down on the edge of the plateau and pats the space next to him. “Come. Sit. Eat. Enjoy the sunset.”

Dinner is nothing fancy, just simple sandwiches made from Hunk’s leftover pot roast from the day before (before he left Earth), but it is immensely satisfying. Especially when paired with the double pale ale he smuggled from Veronica.

Leisurely, Shiro loosens his collar and unbuttons his cuff, rolling the sleeve up past his forearm. Leaning back against his arms, Shiro kicks his legs out into a stretch. “This was a really good idea. Thanks, Keith.”

The sun has long set by the time they finish their dinner and the stars are already twinkling overhead against the cool, cloudless night. Lying back, Keith shoves his hands under his head, and hums in satisfaction. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Sighing, Shiro cranes his neck back as he looks up at the sky. “Look at this view,” he murmurs quietly. “I’ve missed this view so much.”

“Countless planets, multiple star systems, and yet, you can only get this view right here on Earth,” Keith says with wonder.

Shiro draws his knees up to his chest and lets out a deep sigh. “You would think, after all we’ve been through–all the pain, suffering, and agony–I wouldn’t be as enamored with the cosmos as much as I am. But if anything, I’m even _more_ enamored than before. How messed up is that?”

Shiro, despite everything that has happened to him, is an adventurer at heart. It’s why Adam broke it off with him and why Shiro continues to captain the Atlas despite the universe’s relative peace. Keith’s the same way. Even as an angry, orphaned teenager, he always had his heads in the clouds. Yearning for an escape up there, away from everything Earthbound. He wonders if it’s because he’s half alien.

Keith shakes his head. “It’s not.” He rolls over to his side and draws random patterns into the sand. “When you first left for Kerberos, I used to look up and pretend I knew where you were. After they lost contact and pronounced you dead and the mission a failure, I almost couldn’t bear it. I cursed the stars so many times at how they took you away but I also knew that the ‘pilot error’ story the Garrison was trying to pass off was bullshit. It’s why I got kicked out.

“So I looked and kept looking. And then the stars gave you back. The stars gave me a mother. It’s because of the stars that I even _have_ one. The stars gave me friends, a family. There’s a lot of complex and contradictory emotions but enamored is probably too tame of a word to describe how I feel about them. But knowing just how vast the universe is, you can’t be anything but in awe of it.”

“Keith…” Shiro breathes his name with awe.

When he looks up at Shiro, his eyes shimmer in the moonlight, tears threatening to spill and if Shiro starts to cry, he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to push back his own tears. He sucks in a shaky breath. He’s revealed too much. All of a sudden, he feels raw, split open, and exposed for all the world to see, ready for the vultures to peck at his entrails.

“I knew you were a sap underneath that prickly exterior.”

Keith barks out a choked laugh at the unexpected levity. But leave it to Shiro to rescue him from having to endure the entrails pecking. He halfheartedly kicks his shin but smiles, “Shut up, you ass.”

Shiro lowers himself and joins Keith on the ground. “Hey, remember when we used to–?”

“Compete over who can find the most constellations?” He finishes his question. At Shiro’s nod, he chuckles, “We were so young. So idealistic.”

“So ignorant,” Shiro gently adds.

Keith turns to Shiro again, contemplating as he observes his profile. Shiro looks almost melancholic. And it makes him melancholic.

“Do you ever wish–” Keith starts to ask but Shiro doesn’t allow him to finish the thought.

“No.” Shiro sighs roughly and clarifies, “I admit, it’s easier to live in ignorance. It’s certainly more convenient. And I do mourn the lost innocence.” He watches Shiro’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, “War is hard and ugly. There’s nothing but horror and suffering. But I rather know. I rather know and fight than stay in the dark while the rest of the universe turns to ash.”

Keith agrees. Staying ignorant is an easier path but is far less worthwhile. A whole universe crying in pain isn’t something he would ever want to remain unaware of no matter how much easier or more convenient it would be. He’d rather endure than be blind.

Wanting to steer away from the harsh memories, Keith turns his attention back to the sky, his eyes following the familiar outline of Ursa Minor. “Do you remember any of them?”

Shiro wriggles closer and points to the biggest, brightest object visible. “ _That’s_ the moon.”

Keith clicks his tongue but laughs anyway, “Don’t be a smart ass.”

“It’s a celestial body! It should count!” Shiro shifts again and points to an actual set of stars. He whispers in exaggerated wonder, “That’s Orion’s Belt.”

Keith hums, unimpressed and whispers back, “That’s just three stars lined up in a row.”

Shiro cackles, his laughter reverberating through the desert air. “Now who’s being a smart ass?”

He scrunches up his face, trying not to laugh, “I’m just saying…”

“ _You_ point one out then!”

They bicker and laugh into the night, teasing each other and competing over how many constellations they find and how impressive each one is.

* * *

When he woke up this morning, he felt more refreshed than he has in a long while. Getting ready for the day wasn’t exhausting and he didn’t dread the day full of meetings at the Garrison and check-ins with the Atlas crew. He knows exactly who is to thank for it and decides that he’ll do something for Keith too.

At the canteen, he immediately spots Keith by the coffee.

“Good morning!” He feels his smile take over his face when he sees Keith still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It’s far too early to be so quiznaking chipper but he can’t help it at the sight of his friend.

Keith squints at him, his eyes heavy with sleep. Trying to suppress a yawn, he mumbles, “Mornin’”

“Thanks for last night.” He pours a mug of his own coffee after he helps Keith fill up his travel mug. “I think I really needed that.”

Keith waves him off, dismissing his thanks as he takes a quick sip. “It’s not something you need to thank me for, Shiro. It was my pleasure. I enjoyed it too.”

“Well, I’m saying thank you anyway.”

Keith lets out a tiny huff and gives in, “Fine. You’re welcome.”

Shiro smiles into the rim and takes a long sip of his coffee. It’s not the best coffee he’s ever had but it is infinitely better than the sludge they had all those years ago. He’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve been regularly cleaning the machine instead of letting sit in its gunk.

“Now, I have a question for you.”

Keith stops him, “Hold on. I just need to…” Keith shoves his nose into his tumbler and inhales the coffee, his chest expanding as he takes in the strong scent. He closes his eyes and takes a few extra seconds just to savor it. “Okay, ask away.”

Shiro grins warmly at his antics and shakes his head to get back on track. “What have you missed while we were, you know,” he gestures inarticulately upward.

Keith cocks his eyebrow as he tries to figure out the reason for the question. “Is this about how last night, you said you missed the stars?”

He’d pout at being found out so quickly but honestly he would be more disappointed if he hadn’t been. Keith is extremely perceptive.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Oh.” He taps his fingers against the steel tumbler and says, “The rain.”

He stumbles in surprise. Of all the things Keith could have said, rain was not on the list. “Rain?”

Keith’s eyes turn fond, memories clouding his thoughts. “Mm. It doesn’t rain all that much in the desert but when it does… there’s nothing like it. It’s the soothing sounds of raindrops hitting the roof or the windowpane. The way it washes away pollution. The petrichor.” At Shiro’s raised eyebrow, Keith smirks. “Yeah, that’s right, I know what petrichor is.”

Shiro huffs a delighted laugh. Petrichor isn’t a word used very often and one he hasn’t heard used in years.

Keith continues, “Sometimes, me and my dad would just sit out on the porch to watch the storm clouds gather or the way the desert plains would flood. And we’d just… fall asleep to it.”

His heart squeezes in his chest. Keith very rarely speaks about his childhood and his father in particular. He knew enough to fill in the blanks and it humbles him that Keith is willing to share this part of himself with Shiro.

He lightly bumps his shoulder as they walk down the long corridor leading to the hanger, and murmurs, “I’m sorry I can’t make it rain for you.” He is genuinely regretful that he’s unable to provide this to Keith with a snap of his fingers.

Keith’s eyes slide slyly at him, “Are you sure about that? You know, in a lot of cultures, there are dances that are meant to bring about rain.”

Shiro throws his head back and laughs at the thought, “Ha! Neither one of us needs to witness that kind of embarrassment. The rain will have to wait for the moment. In the meantime, what else do you miss?”

With a devilish grin, Keith seems to catch on to the nature of Shiro’s questioning. “Something tangible? Possibly attainable? Chocolate then.”

“Oh.”

Again, not on the list of things he expected Keith to say despite Shiro being well aware of his love for it. He supposes it’s because chocolate wasn’t exactly readily available at the Garrison and, aside from the occasional chocolate milkshake he'd get whenever they snuck out to the diner, he has never really seen Keith eat chocolate.

“I can do that.”

Keith’s eyebrow arches in skepticism. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Luxury items are hard to come by right now. And chocolate is absolutely a luxury item.”

“Pft,” Shiro pish-poshes, “I’m the Captain of the Atlas.” Shiro would never use his rank for something trivial but nothing is ever trivial if it’s for Keith. This man has saved him more times than he has fingers. So if Keith wants chocolate, he’ll do whatever he needs to in order to get him chocolate. “I can dig up some chocolate.”

Initially, Keith’s eyes glimmer in excitement, but they quickly turn serious and his voice steely, “It’s gotta be dark chocolate. Semi-sweet if you’re in a pinch. And milk only as a last resort.”

Shiro grins at his chocolate rankings. “Here’s a hypothetical for you, in a bag of mixed chocolate, are you more of a eat-the-milk-chocolate-first-and-‘save-the-best-for-last’ kind of person or are you a eat-all-the-dark-chocolate-first-and-leave-the-non-dark-ones-as-a-'desperate-times-call-for-desperate-measures' person?”

Keith scoffs, “If you only get dark chocolate, you wouldn’t even have to worry about the lesser chocolates.”

Shiro side eyes him at his loophole. “Cheater.” Then after a brief pause, asks, “What about white chocolate?”

Keith’s left eye twitches in disdain and he sucks in a pained breath. “How dare you. White chocolate isn’t chocolate. It is an abomination, not just to humankind, but to the entire universe.”

A shocked laugh bubbles out from his chest. “Wow,” Shiro’s jaw drops in amusement, “I didn’t know you were such a chocolate snob.”

Keith scoffs at the suggestion, “If having a refined palate for chocolate makes me a snob–”

“That is _literally_ what that means,” Shiro cuts in snarkily.

Keith glares at him. Playfully, of course. “ _Then so be it_.”

//

In the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of yellow that he identifies as the exact person he was looking for. “Hunk, wait up!” Shiro bids Sam a quick goodbye and jogs to catch up with the Yellow Paladin.

Hunk’s brows knit together with concern. “Hey, Shiro. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. But I was hoping to get your help on something.”

“Yes. _Anything_. Whatever you need.” Hunk eagerly grips his arm, hard enough to dent.

Shiro would worry for his arm if it was constructed with lesser materials but he’s confident that the sleek metal will withstand Hunk’s assault. He gently pries Hunk’s fingers off his arm and pats his shoulder instead. “You haven’t even heard what I need help with.”

Hunk shakes his head, “Whatever it is, I’ll help. I need something to do. Something that doesn’t involve Pidge or her lab. I’m pretty sure she’s purposely trying to pick dumb fights with me for reasons unknown and it has been driving me crazy.” Hunk takes a calming breath, as if just recalling his ordeal has gotten his blood pressure up. “So, what do you need me for?”

Suddenly, Shiro becomes nervous, running his hand through his freshly shorn hair. “I was wondering if you can supervise me while I… make a soufflé.”

Shiro can pinpoint the exact moment that Hunk regrets his offer. “Oh. _Wow_. A soufflé? Wow, _really_? You don’t, like, bake, right?”

Shiro is in fact, not a baker. But he’s really good at following directions so with Hunk’s expert guidance, he’s sure he can persevere.

“It is not something I’m overly familiar with, no.”

Hunk tugs at the ends of his bandana nervously, “That’s, uh, kinda ambitious… are you sure you don’t wanna start with something a little simpler? Like, cupcakes maybe?”

He has thought about it but cupcakes just don’t have the same pizzazz. Keith deserves all the pizzazz he can muster and soufflé just _sounds_ glamorous. He knows that he’s overthinking it. Keith doesn’t care about glamour but even so, it’s something he deserves.

“I have to put some effort into this.”

Hunk looks taken aback and frankly, a little insulted. Shiro doesn’t blame him. “Are you implying that cupcakes don’t take any effort? Because I’ll have you know–”

Shiro raises his hands in surrender, immediately regretting his besmirching of cupcakes. “Sorry! Sorry, no, that’s not… That came out wrong. I just… I’m looking for something bit fancier than cupcakes and I landed on soufflés.”

Hunk grumbles but quickly turns excited. “Well… fine. What kind of soufflé are you making? Oo! A cheese soufflé?”

“Chocolate. Oh, uh, _dark_ chocolate soufflé.”

Hunk’s brows furrow, puzzled by the clarification. “Well, of course you’ll be using dark chocolate for the soufflé. Why would you use any other kind of chocolate? You don’t want your soufflé to be too sweet and you want that richness and intensity that you can only get with dark chocolate. Couple that with the lightness and airiness of a soufflé, and it is just…” Hunk gets a dreamy look in his eyes as he finishes his thought, “ _decadent_.”

Grinning in amusement, Shiro asks, “Are you a chocolate snob too, Hunk?”

Curious, Hunk’s eyebrows arches up to his hairline, “‘Too?’ Who else is a chocolate snob?”

“Keith.”

“Hm. Unexpected… but I guess I can see that.” He nods his head firmly at the image of a chocolate snob Keith. “So this soufflé is for Keith then?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Shiro explains, “Keith did something nice for me the other day and I wanted to thank him.”

Chuckling, Hunk shakes his head incredulously, “That’s a really fancy thank you, but alright.”

They walk down the long corridor leading to the bridge when Shiro says, “Now, I know chocolate is difficult to get your hands on so–”

Hunk interrupts, “Leave it to me, Shiro. I will get your chocolate.”

Amused, he chuckles at Hunk’s overly enthusiastic tone and explains, “Actually, I already got the chocolate. I knew that would be the biggest hurdle so I did all the legwork myself.” His voice trails off, as he remembers what he endured to obtain it. “And now I owe so many people so many favors. There’s so. Much. Blackmail.” He snaps out of it and clarifies, “Embarrassing-now-you-owe-me-a-favor type blackmail; not, like, extorting-enormous-amounts-of-money-from-me type of blackmail.”

Hunk gives him a stiff and worried smile. “Glad to hear it, Shiro.” He then gives him a thumbs up, “I’ve got the perfect recipe so we’ll make the greatest soufflé Keith has ever had.”

//

Attempt one was, in fact, _not_ the greatest soufflé ever. Almost immediately after pulling it from the oven, it sunk to the bottom of the ramekin. Even Hunk was surprised by the speed at which it fell.

Keith comes waltzing in as he’s, once again, separating the yolks from the egg whites.

“Sorry I’m late, Shiro. I got stuck at–oh, hey Hunk.” Keith stops next to Hunk and asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Supervising,” Hunk explains as he pops some pork jerky into his mouth.

Keith cocks a perfectly sculpted brow in his direction. “Oh? Did you get demoted to kitchen duty, Shiro? I told you that you shouldn’t have told the ambassador of Xyla that pants were a required Earth custom.”

Shoulders slumping, Shiro glares halfheartedly at Keith. “Ha-ha. Very amusing. I’m making a chocolate soufflé.”

Grinning, Keith takes stock at the hurricane that swept through the kitchen and asks, “Are you starting a new career as a dessert chef? Iverson will be so heartbroken,” he pouts playfully at Shiro. Then, as if suddenly realizing what Shiro said, his brows pinch together. “Wait… is this for _me_?”

Shiro wipes his forehead after he carefully mixed the yolks in with the melted chocolate and begins to beat the egg whites. “No, it’s for Lance. Of course it’s for you.”

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise, his cheeks flooding with an endearing blushing. “Oh. I thought… I just figured you’d dig up a bar of chocolate. I didn’t expect fancy baked goods.”

Hunk peeks at his progress, “Not peaky enough. Keep going.”

Shiro nods at Hunk’s directions. “It’s not _that_ fancy,” he mumbles, even though, yes, it is _that_ fancy and the whole reason he’s doing this is because he wanted fancy. “Besides, you deserve more than a dinky chocolate bar.”

The apples of his cheeks grow even redder. Keith clears his throat, “Is that it?”

Shiro looks at the sad, deflated blob. “No, _that_ ,” he points an accusatory finger, “was an unmitigated failure. But I’m going to try again.”

Keith grabs a fork and stabs at the aforementioned blob, “I’ve never had soufflé before.”

“Don’t eat that!”

Keith gives him an unimpressed look, “I’m not letting it go to waste. It’s not like it’s inedible.” He takes a quick look at Hunk for confirmation, “It’s not inedible, right?”

Hunk, the traitor, shakes his head, “No, just a little deflated.” Hunk looks at it again and amends, “A lot deflated.”

Waving his fork, Keith shrugs, “See? Hunk said it’s fine.”

“ _Ke_ _ee_ _ith_ ,” he swears he’s not whining.

“What? I’ll still eat this next one. The _perfect_ one. Trust me when I say there’s no such thing as too much chocolate.”

“It’s true,” the traitor agrees as he munches happily.

“So, what’s a soufflé supposed to taste like?” Keith asks as he shoves a piece into his mouth and chews carefully.

“Not like that,” Shiro grumbles petulantly. At Keith’s unimpressed look, he sighs, “Light. Airy.”

Tapping his fork against his lips, Keith says, “Those aren’t tastes, Shiro.”

“Custard-y then.”

With a contemplative tilt of the head, Keith hums and point out, “That’s more of a texture than a taste.”

“Chocolate,” Hunks says finally, firmly.

Keith’s shoulders dip and gives Hunk the stink eye. “Bunch of smart asses,” he gripes with no heat, his speech muffled as he shoves another forkful of failed soufflé into his mouth.

“Don’t over fold this time,” Hunk instructs when he begins to add the egg white mixture into the soufflé base.

For this second attempt, Hunk has been watching him like a hawk and he really appreciates it. With a thumbs up from Hunk, he begins to fill the ramekin.

Hunk leans back, the tension easing from his shoulders and asks them, “So what exactly brought this on?”

Shiro evens out the mixture and after carefully putting the soufflé in the oven, he wipes his hands. “Well, the other day, we were talking about what Earth things we’ve missed while we were, uh, fighting a ten-thousand-year old space war.”

“Can’t get chocolate in space,” Keith garbles with the last piece of ‘soufflé’ in his mouth.

Hunk bobs his head in agreement, “Massive oversight, if you ask me.” He takes a spoonful of the leftover batter and murmurs happily, “This is a really good idea.”

“The soufflé?” Shiro questions with a head tilt.

Hunk shakes his head and clarifies, “The whole, Earth-things-we-missed. I mean, we’ve been in galaxies millions of light years away for so long. Away from all the things we’re used to and things we take comfort in.” A wide smile stretches across his face, “I’m gonna ask everyone what Earth foods they’ve missed and have a fancy dinner party.”

Shiro leans his hip against the counter and smiles at the idea. “That sounds great, Hunk. It would be nice to get together for something that didn’t involve coalition business.”

Keith grins broadly, “Not sure how fancy a dinner party will be if you’re serving grilled cheese.”

It’s a tease directed at Shiro as grilled cheese is his favorite. Since his mother worked from home, she would have a plate ready at least twice a week when he’d come home from school. And he would eat it while doing his homework at the dining table. Keith, of course, knew all this.

Feigning offense, Shiro defends the honor of the humble grilled cheese sandwich. “Grilled cheese can be plenty fancy! You can use all kinds of imported cheeses and artisan bread!”

Keith smirks through his laughter, “It sounds like you’ve thought about this before.”

Shiro merely sticks his tongue out at Keith. Juvenile, most definitely, but the shocked look on Keith’s face is deeply satisfying.

“I can definitely work with grilled cheese,” Hunk says happily. Hunk keeps suggesting different cheeses to try, thinking out loud about what combination of cheeses will work best with which breads.

When 30 minutes are up, the timer dings. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Shiro pulls the baking sheet out and carefully slides it across the island until it’s in front of Keith.

Hunk eyes it critically and says, “It’s not immediately deflating so that’s a good sign.”

Keith’s nose twitches, “It smells good.”

Shiro wrings the oven mitt in his hands until he can’t stand it anymore. “What are you waiting for? Take a bite before it falls!”

Excited, Keith digs a spoon into the fluffy concoction and scoops up a generous, molten glob. “ _Oh_. Oh, wow. That’s good. Really good. That’s the stuff. So rich and so melty. Here, have some.” Keith scoops an equally generous spoonful and feeds it to Shiro.

The soufflé melts in his mouth, the intense burst of chocolate floods his taste buds and he has to admit that he’s rather proud of himself at how well it turned out after just one shoddy attempt. “That _is_ good.”

Clapping his hands in glee, Hunk smiles giddily, “I’m so proud of you, Shiro!”

Shiro feels his face flush in delight, “Thanks for all your help, Hunk.”

“Want a bite?” Keith asks Hunk with his mouth full.

“Nah. I’m gonna start working on that favorite comfort foods dinner party. Wow, that’s a mouthful.” Hunk shakes his head and turns his attentions on Keith, “I know Shiro’s, what’s yours?”

Surprised by the question, the spoon dangles in mid-bite, “Oh. I, uh, don’t really have anything like a comfort food because, you know, orphan-foster kid. But my dad did used to make this… I don’t know how else to explain it, but it’s a prickly pear pulled pork quesadilla. I can’t tell you _how_ he made it or what else went into it. And it’s been so long, that I’m not even sure if I remember what it tastes like. But I knew that whenever we’d make a trip out to the desert to forage for prickly pear, it meant that it was quesadilla night. It was something I always looked forward to.”

Shiro’s eyes soften at Keith’s story, wanting to hug him at the fond and faraway look of Keith’s expression. “Keith…”

Keith smiles and reaches over, squeezing his hand in reassurance, “It’s okay, Shiro. It was a long time ago and they’re happy memories, not sad ones. I promise.”

It amazes Shiro at how open Keith has been about his childhood lately when he was so reticent about it before. He’s positive it’s because of Krolia’s presence in his life. Keith has mentioned that during their time on the space whale (Keith’s words), they saw a lot of each other’s memories. While some of the more painful moments of Keith’s life was on display, Krolia was also gifted with moments of Keith growing up with his father. In return, Keith got to know more of his father through his mother’s memories. He’s never been more thankful that for Krolia for giving this to Keith.

Maybe he can make a soufflé for her too. He just needs to find out if she’s allergic to any of the ingredients.

“I’m going to figure it out,” Hunk says suddenly, breaking the quiet spell.

“Huh?” Keith turns his attention to Hunk in confusion.

With a look of determination not seen since the most fraught moments of the war, Hunk grabs his shoulders and looks Keith square in the eyes. “I will tinker and experiment and I will figure out the recipe for you, Keith.”

Shiro watches intently as Keith’s eyes widen in astonishment at Hunk’s resolve. “Oh…” He smiles serenely at Hunk, eyes shy but not breaking contact, “Sure, Hunk. That would be really nice.”

Hunk scrambles from his stool to the exit, “I’m gonna do that now. This might take a while.” Hunk mutters under his breath, something about cooking methods and different spices to try. “See you guys later,” he waves and then he’s gone.

The silence in the kitchen is broken by Keith chuckling under is breath, awed and in disbelief. “Hunk’s kind of amazing, isn’t he?”

Shiro comes around to the other side of the counter and sits down next to him, nudging Keith with his shoulder. “ _You’re_ kind of amazing too.”

“Shut up,” Keith grumbles and he shoves another spoonful into Shiro’s mouth to shut him up, just in case he couldn’t do it on his own. “Have some more soufflé.”

* * *

Joining Shiro for lunch in his office isn’t his preferred way to spend time with the Atlas Captain but with him being in such high demand nowadays, beggars can’t be choosers. He’ll take Shiro’s company in whatever form he can. Although, he’ll definitely need to whisk him away again if he finds an overworked and overwhelmed Shiro by the end of the week.

His lunch today is Hunk’s latest attempt (no. 3) at his dad’s quesadilla. He thought he had forgotten its taste but after the first batch, he remembered the texture and flavor. This attempt still isn’t quite there but it’s getting really close. By the next attempt, Hunk might have it figured out. He makes a little note for Hunk that it should be a bit more spicy and less barbecue-y.

Hunk had been so excited when Keith took him out to the desert and taught him what to look for in prickly pears. And so was he. It had been a long time since he had the opportunity to forage and as it turned out, was also a great bonding activity.

Keith kicks his feet up onto his desk, mostly because he knows it annoys Shiro and he enjoys pushing the Captain’s buttons in any way he can. “Okay, it’s your turn again.”

Shiro eyes his boots, trying to burn holes in it as he chews. He shared some of the quesadilla with him even though Hunk explicitly told him not to until it’s been perfected but he’s pretty much powerless against Shiro’s wide, pleading eyes.

He hums happily around his mouthful of quesadilla. “My turn?”

“Mm-hm.” He crams the last bite into his mouth and asks, “What else have you missed?”

Shiro sputters in surprise, “Keith–”

He wipes his mouth hurriedly and cuts Shiro off. “Nope. We’re doing this. This is a thing we are now doing so don’t even try to fight it.”

Shoving the last morsel of his lunch into his mouth, Shiro leans back into his chair as he thinks. “When I was younger, I used to watch this movie from the late 80’s.” He pauses for, what he presumes to be, dramatic effect, “ _20_ _th_ _century_ 80’s.”

Keith nearly chokes on his lemon-pineapple-guava juice at his clarification. “The _nineteen_ -eighties?”

He still can’t believe he heard Shiro correctly. But Shiro just nods his head with a chuckle and grin, “I know. But I think it holds up pretty well. I mean, I haven’t watched it since I enrolled to the Garrison but when I was younger, I would watch it with my grandparents whenever I got the chance. I’m pretty sure I wore out the disc.”

“You even had a _physical_ copy?”

No one owns physical copies of things anymore, not when you can just access whatever you want quickly and easily through the networked archive.

Shiro shrugs, “Grandma liked things she could see and touch.”

Keith swings his legs off the desk and leans over, his eyes alight with curiosity, “Alright, what is this movie called?”

He grins fondly, “ _The Princess Bride_. But don’t expect a holofilm, that hadn’t been invented yet. It’s not even in IMAX or 3-D.”

His eyes widen. All those technologies are centuries old and yet this movie boasts none of those? “Are you serious? Then what’s the point?”

Shiro laughs, “It’s really funny! It is endless quotable with really weird characters and good actors. If you watch it, you’d understand.”

He taps his foot. This movie is _ancient_. “They had to have remade it half a dozen times by now.”

Shiro nods his head, “They have. A number of times, actually. But it’s not the same. And this is not me being one of those people going, ‘Oh, the original is the best, everything else is terrible, how dare you mess with a classic, blah-blah-blah’ But the remakes had a lot of… not great additions or subtractions. Like they made some of the characters less weird which just made them boring. They did make one on Mars which was actually kind of cool but they changed the plot and characters so much that you couldn’t even recognize it anymore.”

He’s not entirely convinced but Shiro’s excitement is infectious. “Alright, Shiro. We’re gonna watch this movie. I expect to be wowed.”

Shiro grins smugly at him, “I promise you’ll enjoy it. Just tell me when and where.”

//

Tentatively, for the fear of having something thrown at his head, he carefully pokes his head into the lab only to find Pidge hanging from a light fixture. “Uh… Pidge? Is everything okay?”

Startled by his sudden voice Pidge sways and nearly plummets to the floor. “Keith! Help me down!”

Keith climbs up on the workbench closest to where she’s precariously dangling and reaches for her waist but loses his grip when she kicks him.

“Hey! Stop that! You’re going to drop!” She doesn’t stop. “Pidge! I mean it! Stop it.”

“I can’t help it! It tickles!”

Instead, he curls an arm firmly around her flailing legs. “Let go,” he growls. He gently puts her down when she finally stops trying to knee him in the face. “How did you get yourself up there anyway?”

“I was trying to unblock the ducts. There’s something stuck up there and it’s interfering with my experiments.” She brushes the front of her sweatshirt and a plume of dust rises up.

Keith swats at the dust ineffectually, “So call maintenance.” But she dismisses him with a wave. “What were you going to do if I didn’t come by?”

“Someone from facilities would have eventually shown up.”

“And how long would you have to be hanging there until they showed up?” He knows they usually come around at 2100 hours for cleanup– _six_ _hours_ from now.

But Pidge remains unconcerned. “Whatever. What are you doing here? You usually stay away from the lab.”

Keith slides into on the high stools and drums his fingers on the workbench. “I need your help.”

Pidge snaps her goggles on and starts fiddling with a half dismantled machine he can’t make heads or tails of. “What is it?”

“I’m looking for an old film. Like, really old. 1980’s old.”

Pidge turns her head so fast, he worries that she may have given herself whiplash. “ _Excuse me_?” He gives her a sheepish smile and a shrug. “Check the network library. They have everything.”

He’s well aware of this and didn’t need Pidge to point out something so obvious. “I already checked and yes, they have it but I was hoping to find a physical copy of it. I’ve looked in all the usual avenues but I’ve come up empty.”

The drill bit drops to the ground with a clang and she gawks at him. “What in the hell? _Why_?”

“It’s for Shiro.”

Pidge tosses the drill and hangs her head in defeat. “ _Ugh_. Of course it’s for Shiro.”

He folds his arms across his chest and frowns, “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Pidge mirrors his posture and gives him an annoyed look. “It means that you would only go to such ridiculous lengths for Shiro.”

He doesn’t deny that. Shiro is… _Shiro_. He’s important to Keith so sue him for wanting to do something nice for his friend. “And?”

She throws her hands up, as if asking some invisible entity for guidance. “And it’s unnecessary! He’ll be perfectly happy watching this thing without the added frills.”

He knows that. Shiro is a simple man but Keith wants to give Shiro a tiny piece of his childhood that he lost the moment he became a Galaxy Garrison cadet. That’s not so much to ask for, is it?

“Look, are you gonna help or not?”

Pidge glares at him and with a huff, reaches over to scribble something on a small piece of paper. “I promise no guarantees. Ask for Marv. _Do not_ tell him I sent you.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

Keith narrows his eyes suspiciously at Pidge’s behavior. “What did you do to Marv, Pidge?”

“If you want my help, you won’t ask,” she grits through clenched teeth.

“Fine. Give it here.”

Before he leaves, Pidge stops him, her eyes brimming with worry. “Be careful.” she warns quietly before physically kicking him out of the lab.

//

He double checks the address Pidge gave him and yep, it’s right. He arrives at a shady ass, rundown establishment far away from the other shops in the area and he’s beginning to regret 1) asking Pidge for help and 2) allowing the idea of Shiro needing a physical copy get a hold of him.

Closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, he braces himself as he enters the shop. A quick look around confirms his fears: this place is shady as fuck and he’s not sure he’ll escape with all his limbs intact. There are all these contraptions lining the walls and shelves that look to be centuries old. Things that ought to be in a museum, not some rundown, dinky pawn shop straddling the county line and the Garrison borders. He has no idea what he’s looking at but the person who collected these items and those they’re being sold to are definitely the unscrupulous sort.

_What the hell, Pidge?_

A thin, wiry man scuttles from the back, startled to see a customer standing in his shop.

“Uh, Marv, right?”

“Mar _vin_ ,” his eyes turn into thin slits as he glares at Keith. “No one calls me Marv except… _Gunderson_ ,” he spits venomously.

_Seriously, what the fuck did Pidge do to this guy?_

“Sorry, Marvin. I, uh, don’t think I know a Gunderson,” Keith plays dumbs, “But when I asked around for some help procuring an item, I was directed to you. They said you’re the best at finding obscure items.”

He heard flattery always work, right?

“Well they’re right,” Marvin sniffs haughtily. “I can find any item you want. Provided I’m paid handsomely for my services.”

The look Marvin gives him makes him uneasy but he reminds himself that this is for Shiro and tamps down the discomfort. “Of course.”

“Tell me what you’re looking for. I’ll quote you a finders’ fee.”

“A copy of _The Princess Bride_. It’s a, uh, 1987 film starring,” he looks at his data pad to make sure he’s got the names right, “Cary _Eeelw_ _e_ _s_ _s_ and Robin Wright.” He silently apologizes to Mr. Elwes for butchering his name.

“Yeah, I know it. Might actually have a copy on hand too.”

“Really?”

“It was awfully popular. It kept getting re-mastered and re-released.” He walks back to where he first emerged, “Lemme take a look.”

After ten minutes, Keith begins to think that Marvin is never going to return but he tells himself to hold out for another five. His patience pays off when Marvin returns, his hand clutching the precious item.

“I found it but I’m warning you, it may not be very useful to you.” He hands it over to Keith for inspection, not that he knows what to look for. “It’s a laser disc; really old technology that, honestly, I’m not sure if you can even find a player for it. And even if you do, I can’t guarantee that it’ll play. There’s normal wear and tear but also, shit’s so old, the only reason it hasn’t disintegrated yet is because it’s plastic.”

“How much are you looking for it?”

The way Marvin grins sets him on edge. Most people would just think he’s being polite and helpful but Keith has been around enough bullshitters in his life to recognize that that isn’t it.

“Twenty thousand ooles*.”

“ _Twenty thousand_?” That is beyond outrageous.

“It’s my only copy.”

Bull. Shit.

“Twenty thousand for something so old, that you’re not even sure if it works?”

“Who knows much time and resources it’ll take me to find another one?”

And there it is. Keith’s hackles skyrocket and he begins to suspect the reason for Pidge’s weariness of the guy. She could have just told him though.

“I thought you charge a _finders_ fee. You’ve already found it. You can’t charge me for a hypothetical finders fee for a hypothetical future client. What is this? Are you… are you charging clients a premium for an item’s rarity only to turn around and charge a finders fee to a different client that comes in looking for the same item?”

The deeper he thinks about it, it more Marvin’s scheme unravels. “Did you give me the shittiest copy–the one with the oldest technology–and charge me extra because it’s the only copy you have? Wait, is this even the _only_ copy you have? If I go back there, will I find more?” He suspects there’s definitely more.

“I don’t appreciate these accusations.”

“I don’t appreciate you price gouging me or the rest of your clientele.”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Oh, I want it. But you’re not getting twenty thousand for it. I strongly suggest you rethink your pricing strategies or you may find GE** crawling all over your establishment within the hour.”

Keith’s not sure if the GE even has that kind of power to exert but Marvin is operating right on the border of the Garrison compound so it may fall into their jurisdiction.

“I also suggest you find a copy that you know for sure works because you definitely have a few more copies. Don’t you, _Marvin_?”

He can see Marvin debating whether to call his bluff or not and can tell the exact moment he caves because Keith is a better bullshitter than any other bullshitter he’s ever met.

“Fine. Two thousand ooles for a holodisc I have. Tech’s still old but it’s the most recent release before everything migrated to the archives.”

“And a player?”

“I can throw in a semi-working one for ten thousand.” At Keith’s eyebrow raise, he amends, “Five thousand.” A pause. “Three.”

Keith transfers the money to the slimy little bastard and collects his well won goods but before he leaves, he warns, “Try this again, and you’ll be seeing me. Along with some very unfriendly faces.”

*badly made up universal currency  
**Garrison Enforcement  


//

When he pops his head in without knocking, he finds Shiro reclined in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. He smirks at the picture because while Shiro glares at him when Keith does it, he has no compunctions at doing the same.

“You’re gonna leave scuff marks all over that pretty, new desk of yours, Shiro.”

Shiro scrambles in his chair and the contents of his desk clatters to the ground when he swings his legs wildly off. “K-Keith! What–oh, shit!” He picks up his glasses and attempts to straighten up. “You’re supposed to tell me when someone is coming,” he hisses under the breath, presumably speaking to Atlas itself. He clears his throat and turns his attention back to Keith, “What are you doing here?”

He slips into the office, letting the door slide shut so the Atlas crew doesn’t accidentally find their Captain in a disheveled and flustered state. “Are you free tonight?”

Shiro fiddles with the top button of his uniform, trying and failing to clasp it shut, in what Keith assumes to be an attempt to preserve whatever dignity he has left. “For you, I can be.”

Shaking his head, Keith comes around his desk and bats Shiro’s ineffectual hands away to take over. He stands between his legs, the fabric stretching over thick thighs when Shiro shifts to make room for him. Mercy, are these uniforms supposed to be this tight? If Shiro flexes, he’s pretty sure the seams will pop and wouldn’t that be something?

Keith swallows roughly and bites the inside of his cheek. He just wants to crawl into his lap. It’s a very inviting lap. It is absolutely unfair how good Shiro looks in his uniform.

Tilting Shiro’s head up, he carefully clasps the troublesome button without pinching his neck and letting his hands linger as he smooths out Shiro’s collar and shoulders when he’s done. He steps back with a blush when he notices Shiro watching him closely, his eyes lidded, lips slightly parted.

“Good,” he murmurs, remembering the reason he’s here, “It’s movie night.”

After his encounter with the grifter, he got Pidge to help him figure out how to work the holodisc system but only after he agreed to be a test monkey on her non-lethal experiments for a week. Emphasis was made on the non-lethal part.

The only honest thing Marvin said throughout their entire exchange was that the player was in fact, in semi-working condition. Unsurprisingly, Pidge was able to get it functioning again but since the technology is rather obsolete, there were a lot of different cables and adapters that needed to be made in order to hook up the system to Shiro’s personal media center. Luckily, Keith had full access to Shiro’s quarters and Pidge was able to get the specifications she needed.

He also learned exactly what went down between Pidge and Marvin. Marvin used to be a major Garrison supplier. Pidge found out about some of his shady side dealings and actually helped Marvin by keeping a database of clients. Not for money though. Pidge was adamant on that point. She swore that she only did it in exchange for particularly hard to find parts for her scanner during her quest to find her father and Matt.

Until her conscience got the better of her. Eventually, an anonymous tip got Marvin blacklisted from the Garrison’s list of approved vendors. Marvin knew it couldn’t have been anyone but Pidge that turned him in but Garrison brass wasn’t going to believe the word of a con man.

Shiro’s eyes light up, making Keith’s stomach swoop in anticipation. “I can’t wait.”

He nearly trips as he backs out of the office, not noticing the planter of hybrid houseplants that Colleen gifted Shiro on his left. He is being such a freaking klutz in front of Shiro and he does not appreciate his limbs being so unusually uncoordinated. “I’ll see you at 1800 then.”

“Where?”

“Your quarters. I’ll grab dinner too.”

“I can take care of that.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you’re on time, Captain.”

Keith watches a flush fill the apples of Shiro’s cheeks and the tips of his ears burn red. It’s a good look on him as it stand in stark relief against his snowy hair.

“Yes, sir,” he shoots back.

He feels the blush from earlier return with a vengeance.

“Shut up.”

//

It’s pizza and popcorn movie night. Well, he also obtained beer from an alien outpost during his Blades of Marmora mission last week. He made sure that it was suitable for human consumption during their weekly Paladin dinner yesterday and everyone gave their seal of approval (and with everyone still very much alive).

With just a minute to spare, Shiro walks in, already yanking at his collar and wincing when he accidentally smacks himself in the face from yanking too hard.

Keith choke-snorts his beer and can feel the alcohol burn through his nasal passageway. He rushes over, his hands smoothing over Shiro’s face, “Are you all right?” Keith wheezes with tears in his eyes.

Shiro curls his metal fingers around Keith’s hand and rubs his nose with his other hand. “Are _you_?” he asks instead and it’s a fair question.

He has never felt more ungraceful than he did when choking on beer. But the pain subsides and he can function without wheezing and crying. “I’m not the one who smacked himself in the face.”

Shiro squeezes his hand and gives him a tiny smile, “No, just the one that choked on his beer.”

Keith feels a pout coming on and shoves their still clasped hand into his chest. “Go get changed. Pizza is keeping warm in the oven.”

“You _made_ pizza?”

Keith snorts inelegantly, “Hell no. It’s takeout. But I stuck it in the oven to keep it warm. I know you don’t like cold pizza.”

“Because cold pizza is gross!” Shiro shouts from his open bedroom. He returns just as he pulls on the softest looking cotton t-shirt. He mourns at how the gray fabric covers his chest and his ridiculously toned torso but it’s probably better for his sanity. “Melted cheese is far superior than congealed globs.”

“So you’ve told me before.” He flicks the cap off a fresh bottle of alien beer and hands it to Shiro. “I’ll get the pizza. You sit.”

Shiro places his beer on a coaster on the coffee table, and grabs Keith by the shoulders, guiding him to the couch. “How about _you_ sit and _I’ll_ get the pizza. My quarters, my rules.”

Keith rolls his eyes but acquiesces with a wave. When Shiro returns with the pizza, Keith eagerly shoves the holodisc cover into his hands before he can even sit. Shiro stares at it for several silent seconds and when he looks up, he’s met with a smile of disbelief.

“I think my grandma had this copy… It’s got all the features and commentary.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Keith, where did you even find this? I thought… I mean, just downloading it off the network would have been more than enough.”

Keith curls his legs under him and plays with the fringes of the throw blanket. “It wasn’t easy. Ended up meeting a real shady guy. And the holodisc player wasn’t exactly in working condition so I had to basically bribe Pidge into helping me fix it.”

Shiro squeezes his knee with his prosthetic, his other hand still clutching the cover. “You didn’t have to go through so much trouble, Keith.”

Keith licks his lips, his mouth feeling unusually dry all of a sudden. “You trying to tell me you didn’t go through just as much trouble to get all that chocolate?”

Shiro doesn’t dispute that statement but instead says, “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”

“It’s us, Shiro. It’s always a competition.”

Shiro laughs, “No truer words spoken.” He slides the cover onto the table and grabs a slice of pizza. “Put it on! I can’t wait for you to watch it. And if you don’t love it, I will eat my hat.”

Keith grabs a slice of his own and settles comfortably next to Shiro just as the opening scene begins to play.

Turns out, Shiro didn’t need to eat his (nonexistent) hat.

* * *

Breathless, he starfishes on the mat. His muscles are very unhappy with him and they let him know exactly how unhappy they are whenever he moves. Sparring with Keith always ends with him getting sore and achy muscles. And joints. And a cranky back.

Fuck, if it makes him feel old.

But there are also positives in sparring with Keith. The way he moves is like watching art in motion. Even if he’s on the receiving end of the dodges, twists, and parries. Keith lies next to him, also star fished. He’s sweaty and beautiful and Shiro wants to reach over to push his hair out of his eyes so he can just bask in his pretty, pretty irises.

With the universe largely at peace, he had been kind of slacking off in the physical fitness department. Keith rectified that with ease when last week, during lunch, Shiro complained about finishing a 2-mile run in 17 minutes instead of the usual 15. So now, Keith resolves to kick his ass about three times a week. It’s not a complaint. Their sparring is simultaneously physical and verbal and he thoroughly enjoys both.

And today was a good day. He pinned Keith on two separate occasions and found himself on his back only once. He’s not sure which scenario he likes better but he should probably stop that line of thought if he doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

Shiro pokes at his cheek, trying to get Keith to look at him and when he turns his head, Shiro says, “It’s your turn again.”

“Hmm?” Keith hums lowly as he wriggles into the mat, as if trying to melt into it.

He smiles, his heart warming at how comfortable Keith is. “Something else you’ve missed.”

“Oh.” Keith inhales deeply, arching his back into a delicious curve, his brow furrowing as he thinks. “Autumn in the desert.”

“Keith!” Shiro laughs with delight. “You’re doing it on purpose!”

Keith cracks one eye open and pouts. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Keith shouldn’t be allowed to pout. It makes him want to lean over, take his face in his hands, and kiss his full, pink lips. Again, he should stop thinking about things like kissing Keith or pinning Keith or Keith pinning him if he wants to preserve even a shred of dignity.

Shiro scoffs. He doesn’t believe for one second that Keith doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Especially not with the lopsided little grin Keith is trying (and failing) to hide. “You know exactly what I mean! You can’t keep choosing things I have no control over. It’s the middle of summer!”

Keith rolls over to his side, tucking his arm under his head and grumbles, “You’re no fun.” He closes his eyes and thinks again. His eyes snap open, grinning, he peeks at Shiro and excitedly says, “Hoverbikes.”

Shiro sits up, twisting his body to look down at Keith in disbelief. “ _Hoverbikes_? Really? You’ve piloted two different inter-dimensional robot space lions and you miss _hoverbikes_?”

Keith pops up and mirrors him with a pout (and it’s really unfair now endearing it looks on his face). “It’s not the same and you know it!” His face softens and gets starry-eyed as he reminisces all the things he’s missed about it. “I miss the wind in my face, the sand in my hair, the way my heart beats out of my chest whenever I go over a cliff.”

Arching an eyebrow, Shiro adds with a snort, “Bugs in your mouth.”

Keith throws his head back and laughs with a nod, “That too. Most of all,” he shoves his foot playfully into Shiro’s thigh, “I miss riding alongside you.”

His heart does funny things when Keith says things like that so earnestly. It takes all his willpower not to swoon and melt into a puddle. And honestly, he misses riding with Keith too.

While he currently holds a title, he’s _technically_ not a Galaxy Garrison officer so he’ll have to pull some strings. Turn on the old charm as it were, but a pair of hoverbikes is something he can get his hands on. “Well, luckily for you, the Captain of the Atlas is able to do something about that. Easily.” He pauses and then says, “Easier than chocolate anyway.”

//

“Hooooooooly shit! Holy shit! Oh, fuck! _Holy shit_!” His deafening screams are swallowed up by the rushing air around his ears but somewhere, someone can hear his expletive laden screams.

His heart gets stuck in his throat at every reckless turn and dive and _holy shit_. The familiar drop is both exhilarating and utterly terrifying. He can feel the rush of air whipping over him, hear the blood pounding in his ears as he races along the long, deadly drop back to Earth. He stupidly didn’t zip up before they took off at breakneck speeds and his jacket flaps wildly around his torso and his palm sweats as he grips the handle for dear life.

How the hell did he used to do this all the time? _Why_ the hell did he used to do this all the time?

He glances over and sees Keith’s wide but blurry grin and remembers, right, because at the ripe old age of 22, this shit was considered fun, not terror inducing.

The bottom of the canyon is coming up _**quick**_ and it’s only because of some leftover muscle memory and the fact that he hasn’t completely forgotten the precise and complex maneuvers required to pull this stunt off that he doesn’t end up doing his best impression of a pancake. His feet revs the pedals and his stomach swoops as he pulls up. The bike vibrates under his thighs, the engines working overtime as it diverts power to the side motors. The speed and force of the rotors creates a large plume of sand and dust behind him.

He eases up on the accelerator, trying to shake the ringing from his ears. Keith, however, takes no such time to recover from the nosedive, instead as soon as he pulls up, he’s shooting off with a gleeful howl toward the finish line, leaving Shiro quite literally in his dust with his jaw on the ground. He’s not about to just forfeit so he leans forward and races after him, closing the distance but not quite overtaking Keith.

They slow to a stop on a low plateau. Keith jumps off his bike immediately and whoops with joy, yanking his goggles off and tossing it in the air while Shiro clumsily stumbles off his bike. His thighs are so tense and sore from straddling and squeezing the seat for so long and so hard. But then Keith leaps into Shiro’s arms and he promptly forgets all about those minor discomforts.

He drops his goggles in favor of holding Keith against him even as he staggers back at the unexpected weight slamming into him. He isn’t sure how he managed to stay upright but he laughs along with Keith. His exuberance is contagious even as he feels his heart is still trying to burst out of his ribs. Keith’s face is caked with sand and dust, the prominent ring around his eyes where his goggles sat making him snort in amusement.

He misses Keith’s weight immediately when he jumps down but it does give him a chance to catch his breath. “Holy shit.” He rests his hands on his knees, his chest heaving erratically. His nerves are still buzzing with excitement and he can feel his gums tingling. “Holy shit, I forgot how deep that dive it.”

Keith laughs breathlessly, running his fingers through his wild, windswept hair. Somewhere along the way, he must have lost his hair tie. Shiro can’t seem to look away, once again, struck by how beautiful this man is.

“Are you alright?” Keith chuckles as he rubs his back reassuringly.

He waves him off, “Hah, yeah. Just getting old I guess.”

Keith scoffs loudly, “Nah, you’re just out of practice.”

Shiro nods with a laugh, “Yeah, that too.” He glances over to the two bikes, sitting upright under the blazing sun, a light sheen of dust clinging to it. “What was I thinking, teaching you how to do that?”

Keith punches him on the arm, his knuckles meeting the sleek metal with a clang and chuckles. “Oh, come on. The way you can feel your heart and stomach in your throat? It’s fun!”

He shakes his head incredulously. He must have been out of his mind, but he admits that even now–and maybe it’s because of the adrenaline still coursing through his limbs–he wants to go again. So maybe he’s _still_ out of his mind.

He rolls his neck, easing the tension in his back and shoulders. “The Garrison is gonna kill us.”

“The Captain of Atlas and the Black Paladin of Voltron? I doubt it,” the younger man dismisses his concerns.

He has no plans to tell the Garrison what they were up to with the two hoverbikes. After all, he checked them out under the pretense of testing the new upgrades so Keith is right about that. But then he remembers the sharp turn on one of the curves and how he skidded and clipped the rear bumper and winces, “I may have nicked the bike…”

“Oooh,” Keith grimaces, “yeah, that’s bad. Those bikes are brand new!”

Shiro looks at the bikes again and back at a happy, red-cheeked Keith. And there’s no doubt about it. He shrugs, “It’ll be worth it though.”

“Oh yeah?” Keith looks at him with interest and smirks and somehow, his smirks are even more devastating than his pouts. “So you _did_ miss hoverbikes.”

He laughs and his shoulders shake, as if that was ever in doubt. “Yeah, I did.”

Keith hip checks him gently and teases, “Even after piloting an inter-dimensional robot space lion and a giant, transforming mecha spaceship?”

He giggles uncontrollably, delirious with joy. It’s Keith’s way of saying _I told you so_. “Even after piloting an inter-dimensional robot space lion and a giant, transforming mecha spaceship.”

Shiro’s heart rate evens out, the adrenaline easing but endorphins still sky high. Leaning against a bike, he looks out to the horizon, the sky painted in clear blue and white clouds streaking across the canvas.

He cocks his head toward Keith, curious as he watches an armadillo scurry across the desert sand. “You think Kosmo will be upset that we’re out here without him?”

Keith tsks at him, offended by the name. “Don’t call him Kosmo, that’s not his name.”

This is an old argument Keith has had with just about everyone who has dared called the space wolf Kosmo. “He needs to be called something, Keith.”

Keith crosses his arms over his chest and glares from behind his fringe. “And he will once he tells me what he wants to be called.”

“But in the meantime–”

“ _Nope_.”

“But what if he never–”

“ _Nope_.”

“But what if he actually likes the name Kosmo?”

“Then he’ll tell me.”

“But what if he has no way of telling you that?”

“He’ll tell me when the time is right, Shiro.”

That signals the end of that particular discussion. Shiro sighs in defeat. Keith can be so stubborn but it’s also why he likes him so damn much.

“Fine.”

Satisfied, Keith scoots up to sit on the rear trunk of the hoverbike. “But yes, he will definitely be upset that we’re out here without him. For some reason, he really fucking likes chasing roadrunners.”

Shiro snorts at the image it produces. “Hah, he’s an over sized coyote.” At Keith’s blank stare, he explains, “You know, _Beep! Beep!,_ Wile E. Coyote… and the… Road Runner…?” He tilts his head in confusion and trails off uncertainly. “Do you not know who Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner are?”

Keith looks at him, cocked eyebrow and all like _he’s_ the weird one for knowing who Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner are. “Can’t say that I do. Am I supposed to?”

“Looney Tunes?” He tries to clarify again. “Bugs Bunny? Daffy Duck? _Marvin the Martian_!?”

But Keith just shakes his head. “You’re just saying a bunch of things and I don’t know what any of it means.”

“It’s a… _cartoon_!” He sputters, his mind blown that Keith has never heard of it. “I mean, it’s old, sure but… even _Pidge_ knows who Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner are!”

“How old?” he asks with curiosity.

Now that Keith has a frame of reference, he understands when he says, “Older than _The Princess Bride_. Like, a lot older. So old that, unlike _The Princess Bride_ , their earliest runs do not hold up well. Like, at all. It was offensive enough to merit a disclaimer telling viewers how offensive it was.”

Keith nearly falls off the bike at that. “Quiznak, Shiro, just how old are you?”

“Oh, ha-ha, very funny. The later runs were just, you know, simple sight gags.” He feels the conversation derailing a bit and shakes his head to get back on track. “Back to Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner… I’ll have you know that it is a classic bit, okay?” He begins to gesticulate with his hands. “The ever hungry coyote chases the super fast road runner, trying to trap it with increasingly absurd, Goldbergian contraptions only to have them blow up–sometimes literally–in his face. There are usually anvils dropping and ends with the coyote plummeting into ravines while holding silly little signs.”

Keith purses his lips as he listens to Shiro’s description and asks, “You want an anvil to drop on my wolf and plummet into a ravine?”

Shiro does a double take. “What? No! Of course not!” How is _that_ his takeaway in all of this? “I’m just saying that that’s what happens to the _cartoon_ coyote!” That was definitely not the point of this whole thing when he made the innocuous and offhand comparison.

He remains skeptical. “And that’s supposed to be… funny?”

“Well, not if you’re the coyote. I just thought it was a funny image of Wolf chasing roadrunners like the coyote because you’re just fucking with me, aren’t you?” Shiro grumbles with a glare.

Keith smirks and shrugs, “I mean, I legitimately don’t know what you’re talking about with the coyote and roadrunner but yeah.”

“Tell you what,” he takes a breath, “when we get back to the Atlas, we are going to download some Looney Tunes. Or at least some Wile E. Coyote segments. You can judge it for yourself and at the very least you’ll be able to understand the references I’m making.”

Keith shrugs nonchalantly, amenable to the idea. “As you wish.”

Shiro’s head snaps up with a smile, “Hah! See? Endlessly quotable!”

* * *

After two movements off Atlas, Keith grows restless. He misses Shiro fiercely and just wants to see him again. Not through a screen or a hologram but to _physically_ see him. He wants to see the crows feet around his eyes when he laughs and the way the corner of his mouth dimples when he smiles and the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him and the way his eyes light up whenever his passion for something overwhelms him. Keith can’t see any of that through their near daily video calls.

He knows he’s drifting. His mind is constantly wandering to Shiro. On more than one occasion, his mother had to elbow him in the ribs so that he could refocus. Another time Allura pinched his hand so hard, she nearly took some skin off.

He has missed Shiro before. Plenty of times. Kerberos. His death. His _other_ death. His other, _other_ death. But this is something entirely different. His whole being aches. The type of ache that doesn’t dissipate even with the regular calls.

So when the diplomatic nonsense he was dragged off to ends, he’s gone like a shot. He doesn’t wait for Allura or his mother; Keith just goes. He’ll apologize to them later but right now, he needs to get back to the Atlas. Get back to Shiro because if he doesn’t soon, he’ll crawl out of his damn skin. He can finally admit to himself what he has been actively avoiding thinking about for the last few months.

He’s in love with Shiro.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating. Terrifying because he’s not quite sure if Shiro feels the same. Sure, they have been spending a lot of time together and sharing intimate details of themselves that they hadn’t previously. They’re closer than ever before but Shiro hasn’t made any overt moves to signal his interest. Exhilarating because if Shiro does feel the same, well, then Shiro _does_. And that opens up a million possibilities.

He barely gets clearance to land before he’s out of the pilot seat and running towards Shiro’s office. But he’s not there and he’s not on the bridge either. When he’s told by Veronica that the Captain took a mental health day, he knows exactly where to find him.

He gets the wolf to teleport him and there he is in all his glory. His broad shoulders casts a familiar silhouette against the setting sun and Keith instantly feels better. Shiro’s in civilian clothes and it really says something about how hard they’ve been working when he can’t even remember the last time he saw Shiro in regular, non-uniformed clothes.

As if he heard him, Shiro turns. “You’re back,” he murmurs lowly.

Keith swallows roughly, his emotions bubbling into his throat when he says, “I’m back.”

Shiro smiles and the dimple he’s missed so much appears, “I missed you.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to do but his legs do as they quickly close the distance until he’s standing in front of Shiro, mere inches away. “I missed you too.”

When Shiro reaches for him, he doesn’t hesitate to meet him for a hug. The warm hand on his nape soothes the ache he’s been stewing in him for the past two movements. He curls his arms around Shiro a little tighter, savoring the contact for just a moment longer before pulling back.

“Is everything okay? Veronica said you took a mental health day.”

“I’m okay. I promise. Just needed some time to think about stuff.”

He doesn’t really believe him and it must show on his face because Shiro laughs and smooths away his hair. He doesn’t even bother hiding the way he presses into Shiro’s hand.

“Really, Keith. I just needed to get away from all the chatter. Don’t get me wrong, the crew is great but sometimes, they can get too much. Atlas too.” Shiro grimaces, “Ah, please don’t tell her I said that. Last time I said something remotely unflattering, she locked me in the bathroom for an hour.”

Keith briefly wonders why ships are given personal pronouns and why that pronoun is always feminine but that’s a topic of discussion for another day.

He wants to curl back into his chest but refrains, instead, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If you say so. You’ll tell me otherwise, right?”

“Of course.” He tugs him onto the ground, their backs against a large boulder. “How was Yezera?”

Keith scowls, not wanting to bring up the one thing Shiro is trying to get away from. “Forget about work and coalition stuff. Isn’t that why you’re out here?”

Shiro passes him a water pouch and chuckles, “Fair enough. What shall we do then?”

“Well,” he violently twists off the cap and takes a gulp, “we’ve got the rest of the day and it’s your turn again. Is anything else you miss?”

“Sex,” Shiro blurts out and Keith can see the moment he realizes what he just said.

The water pouch explodes in his hands but it’s immediately forgotten as Keith feels the heat burst over his cheeks. That was… unexpected and damn near knocks him sideways. Literally.

“O-oh.”

“Fuck,” Shiro slaps his hand over his face, hissing and mortified. “Shit, did I actually say that out loud? That was so inappropriate. Just ignore that. Uh, camping! I miss camping. Yeah, let’s go camping. Camping’s good!”

All the blood rushing to his head makes him dizzy and his vision spotty and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.

“It-it’s fine, really,” Keith shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.” He scratches his nose, not knowing what else to do with his hands. “Do… you want to talk about it?”

“What? Oh. _No_. No, I–” Shiro stutters through a squeak. “It’s silly.”

“Shiro, it’s not. It’s obviously been on your mind.” He quells the nervousness swirling in his stomach, consciously relaxing the tension in his shoulders, trying to ease Shiro’s panic.

“It’s so embarrassing,” Shiro whines, pressing the heel of his left hand between his eyes.

“Hey, it’s just me. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know, I know. I just, fuck, I haven’t–” Shiro shakes his head bitterly. “It’s been _so_ long. We’ve been in space for so long. I haven’t been intimate with anyone since _Adam_ and for a long time after… after Kerberos, I haven’t wanted to, which suited me just fine. But lately…” Shiro trails off with a sigh.

Keith gives him a moment to gather his thoughts before prompting, “Lately…?”

“Lately, I’ve been realizing how… touch starved I’ve been. I just want to reach out all the time whether it’s to hug someone, or just pat someone on the shoulder, maybe hold someone’s hand… and I have to stop myself from doing something that could potentially be misconstrued.” He slumps, curling his shoulders as much as he could to make himself as small as possible, “It sounds so pathetic.”

He feels a pang in his chest at Shiro’s miserable tone. “It’s not. You’ve been through a lot. More than any one person should have to endure.” Keith reaches over and curls his fingers around his hand, “And you’re not alone. I’d be more than happy to hold your hand. Or any of it. All you have to do is ask.”

He feels Shiro tremble at his touch. “Thank you, Keith.”

He gives him a reassuring squeeze. “You never have to thank me for that.” Keith squirms, his face heating up again as he remembers how this conversation started. “And, uh, the sex part?”

Shiro’s laugh is shaky and delirious, “I miss the intimacy of sex. Being with someone you want that wants you back. Goes back a bit to the touch starved part… wanting full body contact, I guess.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m not sure that’s something you can help with.”

It absolutely is something he can and would love to help Shiro with. But he’s not about throw himself over Shiro’s lap no matter how tempting that is. At least not until Shiro explicitly expresses interest in having Keith throwing himself over his lap.

He knocks his knee against Shiro and quips, “Sure it is. I’m sure if we go to a bar, there will be no shortage of suitors happy to take you home.”

But Shiro stutters nervously, “I’m not really into anonymous sex. N-not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just not for me.”

“Okay, plenty of guys at the Garrison and even some at the AID would jump at the chance to get in the Captain of the Atlas’s pants.”

Even as he throws out these suggestions, it makes him feel queasy. He digs his nails into his thigh if only to stop himself from biting his tongue so he’d stop making terrible suggestions he doesn’t actually want Shiro to agree to. Thankfully, Shiro shakes his head at the suggestion.

“Not really looking for a one-night stand with someone I’ll have to work with the next day.”

If that’s the case–if Shiro’s interest lies in not just the sex, that must mean…

 _Oh_.

He lets out a shaky breath and murmurs, “It sounds like you already have someone in mind.”

Shiro whips his head around, a denial at the tip of his tongue but thinks better of it and nods jerkily once. “I… yeah, I do.”

“Oh.”

It hurts. He didn’t think it would hurt this much. He thought he was prepared for the worst but the gaping heartache is nothing like he would have ever expected. He slips his hand from Shiro’s and rubs his chest at a wound that’s rapidly growing and braces himself for his next words, “Then… you should just tell him.”

Shiro laughs, “What, just go up to him and say, ‘Hey, wanna bang?’”

Keith bites his lip, trying to keep the pain he feels strictly in the physical realm and out of the emotional. “Why not? He’d be utterly crazy to turn you down. But I mean, maybe not something so blunt. More like… ‘Hey, I like you. Wanna go out?’ You try.”

Shiro turns to him and catches his eye. “I like you. Wanna go out?”

His breath catches and he almost believes those words were directed at him. He takes a moment to pretend then with a frail smile, he shrugs and says, “See? Easy?”

Shiro shakes his head and looks at him fondly. “No, Keith,” Shiro slips his hand over his and laces their fingers together. “I like _you_.”

His mind completely blanks out at that and frantically thinks that he must have fallen asleep while piloting back to Atlas. Except in his fantasies, Shiro has never quite looked at him like he hung the goddamn moon. So reality then. He never expected… hoped and wished for, sure, but never expected Shiro to–

“Oh.”

Shiro must misinterpret his reaction because his eyes widen. He looks away and stutters, “Ah, j-just pretend I never said anything.”

“I’m not gonna do that.” Keith shuffles closer to Shiro, their thighs nearly touching. “I didn’t mean it before. The mere suggestion of you being with someone else made me… I didn’t like it.”

“What,” Shiro swallows audibly, “are you trying to say, Keith?”

He gathers up all the courage and all the confidence he can muster. Without wavering and without breaking eye contact, he confesses, “I don’t want you to be with anyone else."

Shiro sits as still as a stone, wide-eyed and speechless, his hand still ensconced in Keith’s. “Are… you saying you want to be with me?”

“I am.”

“You called me your brother,” Shiro points out instead.

Keith bites his lip, hard at the unexpected response. “You remember that?”

Keith always had a sneaking suspicion that Shiro remembered their fight at the cloning facility and that he has his clone’s memories. But Shiro never brought it up and Keith didn’t want to push until he was ready to talk about it.

Shiro swallows begins to say, “I know we haven’t talked about it. At first, I didn’t even know what it was. They weren’t _my_ memories. They almost feel like really lucid dreams and sometimes, I still can’t tell his memories from mine. It’s so confusing and disconcerting to have memories that aren’t yours; memories that you didn’t make, that you don’t have first hand knowledge of. Memories that have no context.

“But at the same time… I’m glad that I have them. Because despite everything, he was _real_. He was a person. He had his own experiences and motivations, made his own memories and if I didn’t have them, it would be as if he never existed. Like he’s been erased from the world and I don’t like the thought of that. I’m rambling. Sorry. But… yeah, I remember.”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you remember.” Keith watches the purpling of the sky turn fiery red and shudders a deep breath. “You were. We were– _are–_ comrades in arms. And friends. My best friend, really. For a long time, my _only_ friend. You’ve always been there for me. Supporting me, encouraging me, believing in me…”

He sighs heavily, scrambling for the words, “You’re my friend, Shiro. _And_ my family, and… _everything_. You’re the most important person in my life.” Keith squeezes his fingers, shaking his head in frustration. “Fuck, I wish I had the right words.” He takes a deep breath and regroups. Looking at Shiro, he doesn’t break contact and just spills everything, “I love you. I would travel to the ends of the universe for you. I _have_ traveled to the ends of the universe for you.”

Shiro licks his lips, drawing Keith’s attention to his tongue and mouth. If they weren’t having a super serious and emotional conversation, he’d think Shiro’s playing dirty. Shiro gently swipes his thumb over his scar and he can already see the apology forming.

Keith holds his hand against his cheek, nuzzling Shiro’s palm. “It wasn’t you. It wasn’t even him. Haggar did this, no one else so don’t even think about saying sorry. I would gladly wear a thousand scars if it meant I saved you.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” he murmurs quietly. “How… how long have you felt this way?”

Keith looks down at their joined hands and hums lowly, “Not sure. It feels recent but… also not? Like, it feels like it’s kind of been there on the edges for a while until they weren’t anymore and kind of smacked me in the face. But you… you have feelings for me too?”

Shiro tugs their hands up and cradles it against his chest. “When you said ‘I like you’ before, I just couldn’t go on without telling you anymore. And I know you meant for me to say to someone else but how can I when that someone is you?” His calloused thumb rubs the his knuckles in a hypnotic motion. “Keith, I love you.”

Keith sucks in a harsh breath, “Since when?”

Shiro shrugs, chuckling dryly, “Some time between the third and fourth time you saved me? Or maybe it was the fourth and fifth time.”

Keith frowns, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t _you_ say anything?” Shiro counters.

He knocks their hands into his (ridiculously stacked) chest. “Don’t try to turn this on me. I already told you it’s recent.”

“Well, me too! Kind of…” Shiro grumbles and resets, “I… it’s only been in the last few phoebs that I started to really accept my feelings for you. I’ve always loved you in one way or another; always cared about your well being. And then our lives happened, thrown in a blender and those feelings… evolved until I ended up here. The clone, he was completely smitten with you when you came back bursting with confidence and all those sharp edges softened out. At first, I thought it was the other me’s feelings imprinting itself but I knew it wasn’t true. His feelings weren’t all that different from my own; he was just more accepting of it.”

Keith cocks his head, his tone curious. “Why’s that?”

Shiro squirms uncomfortably, “It’s just… I used to be your mentor, Keith.”

“And now you’re not and you haven’t been for a long time. We grew out of that dynamic ages ago.”

“I know that but I can’t help but feel like I’m some kind of, you know, gross, creepy man.”

“You’re a good man, Shiro. And it’s because you’re a good man that you would worry about something like this but I assure you, it’s not necessary. Even when you were my mentor, you were always more of a friend than anything else.” Keith gives Shiro’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re attracted to _this_ ,” he gestures at himself, “me, right? The one that is your equal in every conceivable way?” At Shiro’s nod, he shoots him a small smile, “Then you’re not a creep and you’re not taking advantage of me or abusing your power and authority–you just have good taste.”

Just a handful of years ago, he never would have thought of himself in such glowing terms. No mother growing up, dead father at a young age, shuffled from foster home to foster home, adults readily writing him off as soon as they looked at him. But then Shiro waltzed into his life and had believed in him. Kolivan believed in him. His mother. The Paladins. He knows his worth now. He won’t brag and draw attention to it but he also won’t look down on himself.

It seems to have worked judging by that dopey grin on Shiro’s face. “Oh. I guess I do, don’t I? I have _really_ good taste.”

He has never wanted to kiss someone before but he just can’t take it anymore. He leans into Shiro, ready to kiss this beautiful man on his beautiful lips but he stops just short when he remembers his manners.

“Can I please kiss you?”

Shiro laughs breathlessly, “There is literally nothing I’d like more.”

Then their lips finally meet and it’s a gentle and quiet encounter. Fireworks don’t explode and they’re not trying to chew each other’s faces off, there’s only a deep sense of contentment. It feels right and his heart soars higher than he ever did while piloting. It’s the corniest fucking thought he’s ever had in his entire fucking life but he doesn’t fucking care because _he’s kissing Shiro_.

He feels the beginnings of a neck crick that forces him to reluctantly pull away. Not willing to stay away too long, he heaves himself up and over, willing to settle into Shiro’s lap now that he’s explicitly expressed interest.

“Okay?” he murmurs against his lips.

Shiro laughs and squeezes his hips, “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.”

Keith smiles. It seems like they’ve had the same idea. “You should have said something earlier. I’ve been wanting to crawl into your lap for at least a phoeb now.”

“Is that right?”

Fingering the collar of Shiro's jacket, he coos, “You look really good in uniform. And when you’re relaxing in your quarters. And now.”

Shiro blinks sluggishly, as if in a trance, eyes shy. “I think you just like the way I look.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He leans in to resume their kissing, Shiro’s hands stroke up and down his back before fitting themselves comfortably over his hips and ass and _fuck_ , his hands feel good.

“So,” he keeps his lips on Shiro’s as he asks, “about sex…”

Shiro snorts, giddily laughing against his lips. “Keith, we literally just confessed.”

“So?” Keith affectionately pets his chest, wanting to get rid of the barrier between his hands and Shiro’s pecs. “We love each other and should definitely fuck to express that love.”

Shiro whines, burying his blazing face into Keith’s neck and curses hotly. “ _Keith_.”

He continues as if he hadn’t heard Shiro. “Besides, you miss sex and since we’ve been fulfilling all the things we’ve missed for each other, of course we’re gonna have sex.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is.”

“We should at least talk about it.”

Keith drags his fingers through Shiro’s hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp, causing Shiro to shiver underneath him. “Okay. I would like to have sex with you. Would you like to have sex with me?”

He jostles in Shiro’s lap when he laughs. “That’s not what I meant, Keith.”

“Then you lead the conversation.”

Shiro bites his lip, hesitance marring his brows. “Have you… ever–”

He nibbles up the side of Shiro’s throat, humming in delight. “Are you asking about my experience?”

“Only,” Keith feels Shiro swallow and groan under his lips, “only because I want to make sure you know what to expect. I mean, I don’t need to know specifics or anything like that just…”

“Not with others but…” Keith pets at Shiro’s pecs, and mock whispers, “I have a secret, I was, once upon a time, a hormonal teenager and nowadays, I’m a hormonal twenty-something with the privacy, means, and the will to procure items that stimulates such acts.”

Shiro’s eyes practically pop out of his head. “Wait, do you mean…?” Keith merely cocks an eyebrow, smirking. “Fucking hell, Keith.”

“So yes,” he grinds against him, “I more or less know what to expect. Anyway, you won’t have to worry about things like chlamydia or some other alien sex infections.”

“Oh, quiznak, Keith,” Shiro chokes a little. “Give me a little warning, will you?” After a pause, he shrugs, “Well, I guess since you brought it up, there’s, uh, no worries about that on my end either.”

“Great. Your quarters on Atlas is soundproof right?” He slides out of his lap and stands up, “Let’s go.”

Shiro scrambles after him, sputtering incoherently when he processes the implications of an otherwise innocuous question.

//

By some miracle, they make it back to Shiro’s quarters without anyone stopping them for one asinine reason or another. When the door slides shut, he presses Shiro up against it. Shiro lets out a grunt when his back meets the cold alloy but turns into a low moan when Keith swipes his tongue across the seam of his lips. He sags against the broad body when Shiro’s tongue flicks against his own. Keith sighs and shoves his hands under his shirt, petting the hard muscles of his torso.

“Keith,” Shiro mumbles, his breath catching from the soft touches of his fingertips.

Keith arches against him, grinding his crotch against Shiro’s delightfully thick thigh and gasps in pleasure. With Shiro’s guidance, he tips his head back, exposing his neck for Shiro to shower attention on. If this were any other situation with anyone else, he’d be covering up the most vulnerable part of him. But it’s Shiro. He loves and trusts him. And, as he is quickly learning, is _super_ sensitive there. Shiro’s lips and tongue and teeth does their very best to wring out every last moan, gasp, and whimper.

Keith wants to touch Shiro everywhere and it’s really unfair how he only has two hands to work with. He goes from curling his hands over his shoulders to digging his fingers into his lats to dragging his hands further down, running his fingers over his happy trail. He wants to step away so he can see him but stepping away would mean Shiro’s lips are no longer on him and that just will not do.

“So, what exactly have you missed?”

“This. Touching someone.” Shiro slides his hands to his ass and, to his pleasure, squeezes. “ _Being_ touched. The warmth. The weight. You feel so good like this.”

Keith flushes at the praise. “You’re sweet. But I meant more along the lines of do you miss topping or bottoming?”

Shiro’s blush reaches his ears. “ _Oh_. Uh… both?”

“Greedy. Well then,” he tugs at Shiro’s belt, “let’s get your dick out… see what we’re working with,” he grins cheekily.

Shiro barks out a laugh, “You gotta work on your dirty talk, Keith.”

He shoots him an exaggerated frown. “What? You don’t like it?” he pulls apart the belt, the metal clinking loudly when he tosses it aside. “Then how about…” he lets his voice drop to its lowest register, “I want your cock in my mouth. I want to taste you,” he murmurs, nipping gently at his chin.

Keith can almost see Shiro choke on his tongue. “Fuck, Keith, the mouth on you…”

“My mouth on _you_ ,” he retorts. He gently undoes Shiro’s jeans, pushing it down as he falls to his knees. He looks up at him, eyes half lidded and curious. “If I get you to come in my mouth,” he noses the bulge hiding behind the cotton of his boxers, “will you be able to get hard again? So you can fuck me?”

A delirious laugh bubbles from Shiro’s chest, as if he can’t believe this is happening. “You… kinda have a filthy mouth, don’t you?”

Reaching behind Shiro, rubbing his palms against Shiro’s gloriously round ass. “I just know what I want.”

Shiro sucks in a breath, “Well, since you asked so nicely, I’m sure I can swing it.”

“So generous.”

He mouths at him, leaving a growing wet spot on the fabric. Fuck, Shiro is big and he’s only half hard. He can’t wait to feel it grow, preferably in his mouth. Keith peels his boxers off, easing it over his hips and ass until his cock hangs heavily between his thighs. He salivates at the sight; Shiro’s cock is so pretty. He’s thick, curved to the right, with delicious looking veins. The foreskin pulled back just enough to reveal the pinkish crown. He gives into temptation and nuzzles his cheeks into Shiro’s groin, cradling a warm hand around his two perfectly sized testicles.

There’s a thud when Shiro throws head back and the guttural moan he lets out makes his own cock twitch in his jeans. “Keith… baby…”

He whines into the base of his cock at both the way Shiro gasped his name and the unexpected nickname. Keith can’t bear to tease Shiro anymore, he needs to feel the weight of him on his tongue, to feel him harden completely, to have that gorgeous cock stretch his lips. He takes him with both his hands, marveling at the warmth and heft in his palms. He leans in and laps at the pre-come beading at the tip, humming at the faint saltiness. Parting his lips, he takes a breath and eagerly draws him in and _fuck_ , everything about Shiro is addicting.

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro whimpers. “Breathe through your nose and, _fuck_ , relax your jaw.” He does as instructed and slowly draws him in, steadily taking Shiro deeper and deeper on each pass over him. “You… you don’t have to take all of me.”

Keith pulls off and looks up at him. “Are you worried about me?”

Shiro laughs. “Something you should know,” he pants, “I’m in love with you so I’ll always worry about you even when I know I don’t need to. It’s just I know I’m a bit…”

“Big?” Keith supplies with a smirk.

“Ah,” he coughs to clear the squeak in his throat, “yeah. So if you can’t, don’t force yourself–”

Keith surges back onto his feet, kissing the rest of the sentence off his lips. “You are so sweet.” But there’s no way he doesn’t want his gorgeous dick down his throat and he tells Shiro exactly that.

He works on getting the rest of Shiro’s clothes off, tugging his shirt over his head and helping Shiro kick his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off. For comfort, he leads Shiro over to the couch and presses him down. Once again sliding down to his knees, Keith gives his cock wet, open mouthed kisses all along his length, starting from the base and following a particularly prominent vein on the side up to the tip. He opens his mouth, gently easing Shiro in, feeling his cock twitch and jump and plump up against his tongue.

As much as he wants all of Shiro in him right now, he goes slow, letting Shiro’s touch starved dick get used his warm, wet mouth. The thickening of his cock and the pretty gasps and whines falling from Shiro’s lips drives Keith to reach down to free himself from his jeans. He doesn’t touch himself though, eventually, he’ll get Shiro’s hands on him instead, he just wanted to relieve the pressure.

“So good… fuck, Keith,” he pants harshly. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Keith pulls off, making sure to curl his tongue around the underside as he does so. _Fuck_ , he tastes good. His eyes dart up to find Shiro already looking at him. “Are you calling me a liar, Shirogane?”

“Wha-no, no, of course not,” he babbles but Keith hushes him.

“I’m teasing, Shiro.” He is adorable when he’s flustered. “I haven’t done this before but I have fantasized about this. _A lot_.” He shoots him a pointed look.

“O- _oh_. That’s, oh.”

Keith watches, mesmerized by the movement of Shiro’s chest as he draws breath. “Yeah.”

“I want to know all your fantasies,” Shiro murmurs reverently.

“I’ll tell you every last one.” He flicks his tongue at the head, lapping at the pre-come leaking there. “Touch me.”

“Touch y–? Oh…” Shiro gasps when Keith drags his hands into his hair.

Keith returns his mouth to Shiro’s length, making sure his tongue does not miss even a _millimeter_ of flesh. It gets messy, saliva and pre-come dripping and smearing everywhere but Shiro doesn’t seem to mind and may even enjoy it judging from the breathless sounds he’s making. And Keith sure as hell enjoys knowing that he’s responsible.

Sleek, warm metal pushes his hair out of his face while the other cradles the back of his head. Moaning, he presses forward, swallowing around the thick cock until he feels the head bump against the back of his throat. He pulls back slightly and whines, frustrated at having reached his limit.

Shiro tries to soothe him, cooing at how hot and good he is and it does somewhat ease his frustrations. He makes a mental note of his current progress though. He can and will be patient and he will throw a fucking party the day he can finally deep throat this magnificent cock.

Until then, he’ll have to make due with suckling at the cock head, pushing the foreskin back with his tongue, and using _both_ hands to stroke Shiro to completion. He drags his lips up his length, hollowing his cheeks and letting the warm and wet skin linger before dropping down again. Shiro’s breath quickens, his hands tugging at his hair; not to force him deeper but just to ground himself.

Keith moans, low and long when he realizes can feel Shiro’s pulse through his dick as it throbs against his tongue. His hands squeezes at the base of his cock rhythmically, trying to match the rhythm of his racing pulse. A gasp of his name is all the warning he gets before Shiro comes down his throat. He tries to swallow it all down the best he can but much of it still escapes, dripping down his chin and splattering on Shiro’s thighs. He gently sucks him through the last dregs of his orgasm and licks him clean when there’s nothing left to wring from him.

He pillows his head against one of the warm, thick thighs and tries to moderate his breathing. He can feel his own pulse pounding, his cock throbbing in anticipation and pride at having so thoroughly unraveled Shiro. When he peeks up at Shiro, his eyes are closed and breathing labored.

After several long, quiet minutes, Shiro moves, gently combing his fingers through his hair and he hums in contentment. “Keith,” he slurs in wonder, his breath finally back under control. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

He rises to his knees, slotting himself tightly between Shiro’s spread legs. “How cliched of you, saying ‘I love you’ after sex.”

Shiro pulls him into a kiss that’s simultaneously gentle and filthy. Filthy because he can still taste Shiro on his tongue which means _Shiro_ can taste Shiro on his tongue.

“Get used to it,” he grins. Shiro tugs his hand, “Come here.”

Keith crawls into Shiro’s welcoming lap and affectionately kisses his neck. “That was okay then?”

“It was more than okay. You’re incredible.” Shiro flicks his tongue over his lips and Keith eagerly opens for him. “Sorry I just… I should have warned you but it kind of took me by surprise.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that. I didn’t mind.”

“You didn’t have to swallow.”

Keith shrugs flippantly, “I wanted to.”

“You _wanted_ –quiznak, _Keith_.” Shiro lets out a content sigh and pulls him into his chest. “What else have you fantasized about?”

“An easier question to answer is what _haven’t_ I fantasized about?”

“Oh. Wow. Really?”

“Really.”

Shiro drags his fingers through his hair and presses a chaste kiss on his shoulder. “I’m going to dedicate my life into making every last one of them come true.”

“You might need an entire lifetime for that.”

“That’s okay. I’d dedicate several lifetimes to you.”

Keith melts into Shiro. His words leaving him breathless. Shiro really is the sweetest. They stay on the couch for some time–kissing gently, hands dipping low to touch a thigh or butt–enjoying the warm press of their bodies. Keith licks at his collarbone, kisses down his sternum before flicking his pointed tongue at a hardened nipple.

That seems to be Shiro’s breaking point because all of a sudden, he’s being hauled up into the air, Shiro’s hands cradling his ass as he hikes him up. His hands flail as they try to find purchase on firm shoulders.

“Oh, shit. You’re strong. I mean, of course you’re strong. That’s really fucking obvious but I just wasn’t expecting you to just… It’s really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” Shiro bites down on his throat, hard enough to leave an imprint but not hard enough to leave a bruise. “Is that a fantasy of yours?”

Keith squirms in his hold, rubbing his erection on the hard planes of Shiro’s truly ridiculous abs. “It is now. Now I’m wondering what it’ll be like for you to fuck me against the wall.”

Shiro stumbles into his bedroom, the lights automatically turning on. His feet touch the floor when Shiro gently let’s him down.

“Sorry, baby. That’ll have to wait. I want to have you spread out on my bed. Wanna see what you look like in my sheets.”

“Yes,” Keith hisses.

“How am I the only one naked?” Shiro grumbles, as if just realizing that Keith was still fully dressed.

“I wanted to get my hands on you, remember?”

“And if I wanna get my hands on you?”

“Undress me then.”

Shiro fights the fabric until he gets his hands in the hem at the back and tears it apart. Good thing he wasn’t that attached to that shirt. Keith sighs contently when their bare chests press into each other.

While Shiro works in freeing him from his pants, Keith works on familiarizing himself with the taste of Shiro’s scars. He wants to memorize every last one and give them all the love and affection they so richly deserve. When he’s finally as naked as Shiro, Keith rises up to his tiptoes, pulls Shiro into a hot kiss, and curls a leg over Shiro’s hip.

Without breaking contact, Shiro shuffles them to the bed and they gently fall into the mattress. Shiro’s big body presses him into the sheets and the weight of him is better than anything he’s ever experienced. Shiro licks and nips along the curve of his jaw, down his neck, and stop at his chest. The first touch of his hot wet tongue on his nipple sends Keith into a pleasant arch and a mewl he didn’t know he was capable of making escapes from his throat.

Shiro uses the flat of his tongue to rub at the hard nub before curling around it and drawing it between his teeth. Thick fingers pluck and flick at his other nipple and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick. He can feel himself leaking, his long ignored cock smearing pre-come over a big, muscular thigh. The panting and gasping makes his mouth grow dry and voice husky. He tries to swallow but his tongue feels incapable of the action. He wants–

“I can’t believe this this happening,” Shiro abandons his nipples to lick the shell of his ear. “I can’t believe you’re here. Naked in my bed.”

The wonder in his voice is enough to make Keith cry. “There’s no where else I’d rather be.”

Shiro curls his big, warm hand around his dick, his thumb pressing just underneath the swollen head. “You’re one behind.”

His brain has been turned to mush and it takes him a moment before he realizes what Shiro meant. “Oh? We’re keeping track? I didn’t realize we were competing.”

“It’s us–we’re always competing.”

Shiro’s eyes drift down, watching his hand stroke Keith rhythmically. Keith watches in fascination at how quickly Shiro’s eyes darken. It gets him unbearably hot and he can feel how even more pre-come drips from him. Shiro swipes his thumb over his swollen head, pulling the foreskin back.

“Hmm. You know what I really miss?”

Keith struggles to swallow, his voice croaking, “What?”

“Sucking cock.”

Goosebumps erupt on his skin and a pleasurable tingle races down his spine at the mere thought of having Shiro’s perfect, hot mouth on him. “Oh, well, would you look at that? I happen to have one,” he gestures with a flourish.

“How convenient.” With a roguish grin, Shiro squeezes him again. “Think if I suck you off now, you’ll be able to get hard again?”

Keith snorts in amusement. “You know that Galra stamina that lets me kick your ass all over the mat? Let me assure you that that extends to sexual activities as well.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?”

“I’ll just bring you back to life.”

“Yeah, you always do.” Shiro glances down quickly and ducks his head, “I’m a little out of practice…”

“And I literally had no practice. You’ll be just fine.”

Shiro takes his time, fastidious in his attention at every patch of skin. Every kiss and touch leaves Keith wanting. His weight is heavy over him but it’s comforting instead of crushing. Calloused fingers sweeps over his stomach, dipping down, down, _down_ until–

The asshole diverts his hand to his hip and thigh. Fucking tease. He’s caught somewhere between a laugh and a whine, delirious with need.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise,” Shiro murmurs into his neck.

True to his word, Shiro begins to work his way over the length of his body. His hands curl under him, sweeping down his spine as Keith arches off the mattress. His lips wetly drags over his clavicle, his pecs, and torso. It’s slow going and his attention meticulous, as if Shiro is trying to map every dip and curve with his tongue, trying to memorize every sound and reaction.

Shiro kisses his hip and nuzzles his cheek against his pelvis. But instead of taking him in his mouth like he promised, Shiro continues down. His nose and hot mouth trails down the inside of his thigh, hands kneading his calf, teeth nipping his ankle. He then does the same with his other leg in reverse.

By the time Shiro finally turns his attentions on his cock, Keith is ready to burst. He can feel how much he’s leaking, can feel pre-come pooling on his stomach. His cock throbs painfully when Shiro’s nose bumps up against his taint and balls and shouts when Shiro, with no warning, licks at said taint and balls.

“Shiro. _Shiro_ ,” he chants.

He feels like he’s losing his mind. Everything is fuzzy and muddled. Only then does Shiro finally sink down on him. He arches harshly, thrusting his hips but when he apologizes for choking him and tries to pull back, Shiro grips his hips harder and moans instead.

“It’s okay,” Shiro gasps when he pulls off. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Shiro,” he pants, pushing his hair from his face.

Shiro looks stunning like this, pupils dark and eyes half lidded, lips red and swollen, and hair matted with sweat. He doesn’t need to check to know that a fresh burst of pre-come is dribbling from his slit at the mere sight. He feels himself nodding and Shiro’s mouth is back on him, his tongue pushing his foreskin back, lapping up the pre-come, and suckling at the red, swollen head.

He clutches the back of Shiro’s head, gently thrusting into him until he feels the vibrations of Shiro’s groans. It gets rougher after that. Keith would worry about the roughness but the delighted hums and the hard squeeze of his ass tells him there’s no need.

Keith isn’t going to last much longer, his spine tingling with warning, and he lets Shiro know. Shiro doesn’t falter though. Instead, he sucks at him even harder, bobbing his head on his cock, tongue rubbing and pressing against the underside of the head. He shouts… _something_ when he comes, probably Shiro’s name only for it to be mangled with a sob. Even as his cock softens and over-sensitivity begins to creep in, Shiro continues to suckle and lick him, milking every last drop from him.

It’s only when the muffled ringing in his ears stops that he regains some semblance of where and who he is. When he opens his eyes again, Shiro is propped up next to him.

“Welcome back,” Shiro murmurs, kissing his shoulder.

“Did I blackout?”

“Only for a little bit. Still worried me though.”

Keith rolls into Shiro’s chest and kisses his sternum. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being you. For being so good to me.”

Shiro smooths his hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. “It’s no hardship, Keith. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Keith hums and rolls into Shiro’s chest. “Just gimme a few minutes and I’ll be ready for you to fuck me.”

“We don’t have to do more than this tonight. You’re exhausted and there’s no rush. We’ll have lifetimes, remember? You should rest.”

Rest does sound good but… “You sure about that?” the back of his hand brushes against Shiro’s swollen erection.

Shiro sucks in a sharp breath but pulls his hand away from his dick and gives his palm a light kiss. “I’m sure. It’s been a really long day for both of us. I wanna take my time with you, take you apart until you can’t remember your name and I can’t really do that when we’re both about to collapse from exhaustion.”

Prepared to argue, Keith begins to feel the effects of the day–the long flight back, the emotional roller coaster, the _sex_ –and reluctantly nods in agreement instead. Shiro pulls him closer, tucking him underneath his chin. He curls his arms around Shiro’s midsection while Shiro absentmindedly moves his hand up and down the curve of his back in long, broad strokes.

Atlas hums quietly in the background as he focuses on the steady thump-thumping of Shiro’s heart. There isn’t a more soothing sound in the entire of the universe. He’s probably biased in that assessment though.

After several minutes of comfortable silence, Keith nudges at Shiro. “You know what else I miss?”

Shiro pauses in his ministrations and squeezes his hip. “If you say something like… rainbows…”

“Actually, it’s pretty easy to make a rainbow. All you need is–”

“Keith!”

“But no, no! Not rainbows, I promise! Baths.”

“Oh. Yeah?” Shiro grins widely, a plan obviously already forming in his head.

“Or, I guess, more accurately, it would be nice to finally _experience_ a bath because, you know, baths weren’t really a thing for me growing up and yeah," Keith trails off.

Shiro squeezes his torso and hums happily, “How lucky you are that the Captain’s quarter can provide such an amenity.”

“Mm. Very lucky. Really, it’s the only reason I’m interested in the Atlas Captain.”

He barely gets the whole sentence out before fingers, both metal and flesh, dig mercilessly into his sides. Shiro says something–something snarky, he’s sure–but he can’t hear it over the sound of his own shrieking.

It takes a while, but they do eventually make it to the bath.

**Author's Note:**

> You know it’s been a while since you last wrote something when it takes you five tries to spell petulance and disdain.


End file.
